


not coming home (without you)

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Who are you?', he had asked.</p><p>If only she could tell him. For him, she was nothing more than an impostor, some Leia girl who had helped Snow White and had crashed a ball in order to help her. He had no idea she would be someone he would come to care for some day. Someone who would lift his curse. Someone who would be his downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not coming home (without you)

**Author's Note:**

> well, a&e said that they had wanted jamie to be in the finale but couldn’t because he had been filming 50shades of crap; but promised that once the finale aired, they’d tell what they had been thinking for his appearance. 
> 
> alas, i have my own headcanon lalalalala sorry not sorry
> 
> (so this is mostly gremma but also a bit of captain swan but yeah gremma GREMMA)

 

She didn’t know if the guards had actually indulged themselves before the ball or if the fairytale clichés that everybody snorted at while watching Disney movies were actually true in the Enchanted Forest but, as she was being led to the dungeons after her run in with Regina - no, wait, the  _Evil Queen_ , that woman made the mayor look like a golden retriever puppy -  Emma had already lifted off the keys that had been dangling from the pocket of the one at her right when someone called behind them.

“Stop.”

She froze, the men at her sides mimicking her and turning their heads to see who had interrupted their trek. She didn’t need to, though - she had stopped in her tracks for both reasons; obeying the voice’s order and because she  _knew_  who it was; had only needed to hear one word and the lilting accent in which it had been said to do so. 

_Graham_.

Still incapable of moving, his footsteps, light and measured brought him behind her, where she could almost feel him, the heat of his body and his breath on the back of her head, a chastised ‘tsk tsk’ muttered against her now ruined hairdo. “Did you really think that would work?” As he spoke, her heart fell when his rough, calloused hand caught hers and uncurled her fist, where the keys had been hidden from the guards’ view. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the ground when he rounded and stood before her, dangling the keys merrily in his fingers and then showing them to her companions. Not ready to meet his eyes - or even _look_  at him, God, he had  _died_ , he had freaking  _died in her arms_ , she still had nightmares about it; she still woke up shaking and silently crying, remembering his last words, the hope in his face, the relief shining through his eyes, the utter wonder as he approached her and cupped her face in his hands - she didn’t say a word, still staring at the top of the flimsy slippers they had given her after stripping her from the gown Rumplestiltskin had magicked on her. There was a tired sigh. “Yeah, you probably did. And I can’t blame you.” At that, she peeked up involuntarily, and was faintly amused to see him - oh God oh God _oh God_  she was actually  _looking_  at Graham, he was  _there_ , in front of her, he was alive and breathing  - staring at the guards with an unimpressed look that would have made her laugh at another time, maybe at Granny’s after seeing her failing miserably at throwing darts or something and  _why did it hurt so bad again_  - had it  _ever_  really stopped hurting?. “After witnessing this show of failure, I will be escorting her to the dungeons.” 

One of the guards actually scratched behind his ear, and the motion vaguely reminded her of Hook. God, where  _was_  he? She didn’t think she’d miss his presence so much, his comfort after realizing she was standing right beside the man who had made her feel like maybe lowering her walls wasn’t as bad an idea as she had believed for ten years. 

The man whose name she knew wasn’t even his  _real_  name. 

He was the Hunstman here, and his imposing and calculating presence was enough to make the guards finally let her go and run to wherever it was the Evil Queen needed them. 

Emma witnessed how they fled the scene, rubbing her hands together until there was a grip on her wrist, non too subtly pushing her forwards in the direction she had already been headed to. Right before he showed up, she had been planning dozens of breakout scenes in her mind: the best way of knocking out the black knights that she might run into, where she would most likely find Hook, what would the next step be before everything fell apart. But, right now, with  _him_ , in all his black night regalia -  _oh_ , of course he would be Regina’s dog in here, her mother -  _Snow freaking  White_  - had already escaped, and thus Regina must have his heart; if not he’d be in his beloved forest, or so Henry had told her one day she had been too curious about the Sheriff’s supposed alter ego story not to ask, -  all she felt was numb. 

Numb, nervous, emotionally drained. As if the panic and despair and shock of the day - time travel, familiar faces disguised as fairytale characters, seeing her parents not being in love, not being able to tell Rumplestiltskin all of his plan would eventually lead to Neal dying, - were seeping painfully slowly from her every pore. 

It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized she had been crying. 

“Your tears won’t do a thing. I saw you back there - you know how to lie and cheat for a living. No need to put on an act, you won’t escape here.” She wasn’t sure if he was expecting a snarky retort, a show of rebellious character,  _anything_  from her, so she just stayed silent. She hadn’t expected him to say anything else either, but she was surprised to hear his voice dropping, a hint of defeat ringing in his words. “Even if I want to help you, I wouldn’t be able to.” 

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, wanting nothing more than to go to him, offer him the comfort that she had always gotten from him back in Storybrooke, his silent presence by her side when she had rescued Henry in the mines and Regina took him away from her, encouraging her to stay in the town. 

And now here he was, without a heart and admitting he would help her if he could. 

Before she could stop herself, she breathed, “I know.”

He looked at her warily as they resumed their walk, but didn’t say anything else. She wanted to curse herself, really -  _of course_  he didn’t know she knew about his missing heart. It was a good thing she was wearing Rumplestiltskin’s glamour, or she didn’t even want to imagine what that’d  do to the stupid time line continuum or whatever. At the same time, she couldn’t help but hate the stupid glamour - couldn’t help but want him to  _see_  her. She wouldn’t admit she missed the way he used to stare at her, admire her from afar; when he would subtly look at her and flush when she caught his eyes on her. 

It reminded her of the way a certain pirate would look at her, of his encouraging words and constant presence at her side no matter what. 

But there was nothing but a curious frown on his face now, whenever he caught  _her_  eyes on him and surely noticed the silent tears falling down her cheeks.  

After what felt like an eternity, she lifted her gaze to his, and spoke before her sense of mind told her this was a  _bad_  idea or her courage slipped away. 

“I’m sorry.”

He halted his steps and turned to stare down at her with a sad look on his sun-faced skin. He shook his head, that damn strand of sandy hair that would always curl at his forehead and she had itched more than once to brush off with her fingers back at the Sheriff’s station distracting her. “It doesn’t matter if you’re  _sorry_  - you helped the bandit Snow White. You know going against the Evil Queen means paying the consequences.”

Her lip was freaking  _quivering_ , and she hated herself for it, didn’t want to see his expression when he realized how broken she was by admitting this - even if he had no clue what the hell she was talking about. Maybe he never would. “It’s not that I’m sorry for.” She inhaled sharply, meeting his eyes again, almost missing the tiny spark in them at her quiet confession. “I’m sorry for not believing you.”

His hand closed over hers, the firm grip over it somewhat reassuring - which was  _insane_ , he was getting her to  _prison_ , for Christ’s sake, - and she met his confused and slightly frustrated gaze, as if something was nagging at the back of his mind. “What are you talking about?”

Her smile was tiny, sad, and thin. Yet it was a smile nevertheless. “You will understand, some day.”

He parted his lips, frowning, and she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even  _know_  her, and even if by some fucked up time traveling voodoo crap he could find something familiar in her, she didn’t even  _look_  like her, like the Emma Swan he had met. No wonder he looked absolutely out of his wits. 

She closed her eyes, and with a quiet sniff, stepped through the door that led to the dungeons, knowing that he would follow her. It was his job, after all, and he had to do it, if he didn’t who knew what Regina - the Evil Queen,  _dammit_  - would do to him. Emma had already been to blame for his death once, she wasn’t about to let him suffer because of her again.  

They got to the cell in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts and memories, - his a jumbled mess and confused inner wonderings of why the prisoner seemed to know him; hers of bearclaws and leather jackets and goofy smiles and bad jokes over cocoa. The echo of the clinking keys as he unlocked the door felt ominous in the seemingly deserted prison, though Emma thought she saw a shadow in the cell at the left, maybe another poor soul who had been unlucky enough to be in the Evil Queen’s path. With a silent nod of his head, Graham motioned for her to go in, and she obeyed without complaint. Right when he closed the door behind her, she heard him step until he was facing her, his hands gripping the bars and his face hovering between them, his eyes pleading, his voice wavering, the battle against the inner turmoil that she had most surely caused within him with her earlier words lost. “Who _are_  you?”

She sent him a watery smile, shaking her head. Taking in a shuddering breath and ignoring the hammering of her heart, she walked on shaking legs to the opposite end of the small space, facing the set of bars separating both cells and slumping agains the wall, almost welcoming the sharp stab of pain of the hard rock against her tired spine. He hadn’t moved from his place at the door of her cell, still waiting, yet she ignored him. After a short while, he sighed, and moved to go. She was already gulping down tears at the notion that she would never see him again, if they got out of there and actually pulled it off and made her parents meet and got back home, she would never see him again, God - when he came back, holding two wooden bowls filled with some gooey stew she wasn’t really eager to try. He left them as far as his arm would go from his side outside of her cell, and before she knew it he was also adding a pair of spoons for her and her fellow prisoner to use, something on its handle flashing in the dim light of the only torch illuminating the cell.

Her focus was pulled away from the cell meal she had been treated to when she noticed him dusting his pants with his hands as he stood up. Their eyes met for a brief last moment, a sob clogged in her throat because this was  _it_ ,  _this was it,_  this was goodbye, this was the very last she would see of him and she couldn’t even tell him how much he had meant to her and how grateful she was for what he had done for her, for her family, for Henry, for  _her_ …

_'Who are you?'_ , he had asked.

If only she could tell him. For him, she was nothing more than an impostor, some Leia girl who had helped Snow White and had crashed a ball in order to help her. He had no idea she would be someone he would come to care for some day. Someone who would lift his curse. Someone who would be his downfall. 

He had already turned to leave with a sigh and a brief nod in her direction, but she thought she saw his step faltering and slowing when she said under her breath “your future deputy”.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until way later when she looked closer at the spoons that she noticed the wire around it, and it only made her snort a laugh. 

So much for a sheriff in a future life. He had always been a wolf, seeking to be free.

* * *

 

She had lost count of the times Killian had already wiped her tears that day. As she saw the small array of black knights following their steps as they made their way towards the Dark One’s castle (with Marian on Killian’s shoulder to boot) and she recognized him at the front, kneeling and studying tracks on the ground - Mary Margaret’s or David’s, she wasn’t sure, though she was not worried: the book followed the path it had previously done, so they didn’t need to interfere in here - she couldn’t stop them from running free once more. 

There must have been something in her face as she looked down at the huntsman in his element even disguised as the Evil Queen’s guard from the top of the hill they were at, because before she could come up with some crazy ‘what if we took him with us too’, ‘what if we rescued his heart’ , ‘what if…’, Killian had already taken her hand in his, the pity and understanding in his eyes the last straw for her.

_She had to let go._

Gripping Killian’s hand in his, and welcoming the small, encouraging smile he sent her way - always,  _always_  at her side, as he had always been; as Graham had once been, even standing up in front of Regina for  _him_  and for  _her_ ; - she did. 

It was time to go home.  


End file.
